


You would cry too

by AnnaMcb24



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Bill’s bi panic, Birthday Party, Bullying, Gen, Georgie’s birthday!, Pre-Bike, Pre-Hanbrough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28417038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaMcb24/pseuds/AnnaMcb24
Summary: “I made sure everyone in my class got an invitation,” Georgie is saying as they push their bikes.“Aren’t there t-tw-twenty kids in your-r c-class?” he asks, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.Georgie just shrugs and huffs as they crest the hill. “Mom said I could invite however many kids I wanted to. She said she’s gonna get one of the big cakes from the grocery store. She said that she’s gonna ask ‘em to make it look like a Lego.”Bill tries to look impressed, but he just feels bitter.---It's Georgie's birthday and Bill is gonna try and be a good big brother.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough & Georgie Denbrough, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	You would cry too

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [@Coffeeandcheesecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeandcheesecake/pseuds/coffeeandcheesecake) for beta reading this and making sure that any of my scrambled sentences make sense.
> 
> This is based on [this specific post](https://twitter.com/WholesomeMeme/status/1341548579899453446?s=20), because I wanted to make [my sister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nordpdc62/pseuds/nordpdc62) cry. As a head's up, some of this involves Bill trying to figure out his own sexuality, but he doesn't come to any decisions by the end, because he is baby. They're all babies! Have fun!

“I made sure everyone in my class got an invitation,” Georgie is saying as they push their bikes uphill. Part of Bill is annoyed – the last day of school and he’s spending the afternoon babysitting Georgie again while his parents go do something boring out of town. Even the promise of the twenty dollar bill stuck to the fridge with a 1984 Summer Olympics magnet isn’t that comforting, because he’ll have to call the Pizza Hut to make the order in the first place. The woman who picks up the phone there always gets impatient with him and he’d rather die than hear her say _Spit it out, kid_ one more time.

“Aren’t there t-tw-twenty kids in your-r c-class?” he asks, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Georgie’s basket, improperly attached to his handlebars, rattles as they walk, the sound drilling against the side of Bill’s head.

Georgie just shrugs and huffs as they crest the hill. “Mom said I could invite however many kids I wanted to. She said she’s gonna get one of the big cakes from the grocery store. She said that she’s gonna ask ‘em to make it look like a Lego.”

Bill tries to look impressed, but he just feels bitter. On his last birthday, his mom told him that he couldn’t invite Richie or Eddie over because last time they were at the house, the two of them decided to wrestle and ended up breaking a lamp. He’s sure this year, even though his and Georgie’s birthdays are just three weeks apart, she or his dad will have some similar explanation for why he can’t have his friends over for his own party.

“Hey Bill?”

He turns to look at Georgie, who’s fixed him with his big, gray-blue eyes, his chin wrinkling and twitching like he’s barely holding back tears.

“Yeah?”

“Can we just walk down the hill?” His voice, high and chirping, wavers as he speaks. Bill feels a hot rush of guilt flood his stomach.

He nods. “Of c-course.”

Georgie is the baby, so Georgie is spoiled. Richie explained this to him once, emphatically gesturing to explain the sibling hierarchy while Stan and Eddie screamed over him about how he was just spouting pseudoscientific bullshit. 

Richie is also a youngest – Eddie pointed out, a finger in Richie’s face – and is he spoiled?

No, was Richie’s answer. Yes, said Mike and Stan, almost simultaneously.

Georgie’s a little spoiled, but he’s also louder, more boisterous and generally easier on their parents than Bill is, because he’s just generally happier. Or it seems like that’s why, given how often their dad tells Bill to “cheer up.” Bill doesn’t try to be difficult. He just feels sad a lot and lonely, even though he has good friends. Maybe he’s just selfish. It’s not like Georgie doesn’t deserve to be spoiled.

Bill is sure his mom wouldn’t have agreed to so many kids at their house even just last year, but then Georgie lost his arm in February and now they seem to have forgotten how to say no. Bill has too, a bit, but Georgie seems to have taken the whole thing in his stride, mostly just getting annoyed by his fake arm, which is stiff and plastic.

_My arm itches,_ is a common complaint. Same with _But it’s hard now_ , but that one is worse, because it usually means Bill is going to have to do something for him. While their parents have always encouraged Bill to “power through” his own limitations, both of them seem content to either take up Georgie’s chores or delegate them to Bill.

He complains to Mike about it a few days before Georgie’s birthday, about a week after school ended. They were supposed to meet Ben for a movie, but apparently Ben’s dad came to visit and so he couldn’t come. Stan joined and split directly after to help his parents with the new baby.

The movie was boring – something in black and white with subtitles that one of the librarians told Mike he would enjoy. Bill mostly just found it hard to follow, but Mike loved it. He’s been talking about it for the last fifteen minutes, about the editing and the poetry of the dialog. Bill doesn’t have much to contribute, but he likes listening to Mike, who always has interesting things to say about art and history and books.

“How have you been doing?” Mike asks as they sit by the stream, picking rocks out of the muddy banks and tossing them into the water.

Bill twists his mouth. Thinking too hard about the streamers and brightly colored decorations accumulating in the house makes him mad enough to spit. He knows he’s just being bitter and jealous. He knows that those things make a bad big brother.

Mike is also an oldest, but he’s the oldest of five: three little sisters and a little brother. That has to make everything crazier at his house, as well as the farm stuff and being homeschooled. Bill helps Georgie with his homework sometimes, but he can’t imagine doing that every day.

“H-his b-b-birthday’s Friday,” he says. “Mom is throwing a b-big – a big p-party.”

That makes Mike smile and Bill feels his cheeks get a little pink and something like pride blossoms in his chest.

“Has he talked about anything else this week?” Mike asks and Bill smiles too.

“No! It’s s-s-so annoying! And there’s gonna be l-l-like – like t-twenty kids!”

Mike laughs, his nose crinkling up. Bill tosses a stone into the water up in an arc so there’s a satisfying _plunk_ when it hits the water.

“That’s gonna be a disaster.”

Bill nods furiously. “My m-mom got a fucking p-p-piñata.”

“They’re gonna break a window!”

“I know!” Bill snaps and he’s sure he sounds like a brat now. The pride that bloomed earlier begins to whither from his own anger. “But w-watch Richie and Ed-Eddie not be allowed for my b-birthday again this year.”

Mike shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “Well, if Georgie throws up after eating cake again, you gotta tell me what color it is.”

Bill laughs despite himself. “I know I sound…” He falters, his face burning but not from the sun that’s shining through the canopy of bright green leaves. “I know I s-sound like a j-jerk,” he forces out, focusing on running his pointer finger through the mud, searching for anything hard.

“Hey.” Mike bumps him with his shoulder and Bill looks at him, at his big dark eyes. The soft sunlight makes his hair look golden at the edges, where his kinky curls form something like a halo around him. Bill makes himself look away. He wonders, not for the first time, why Mike, who is a much cooler person than any of the rest of them, deigns to spend time with Bill. “I don’t think you’re being a jerk. I love Georgie, but he’s little. It’s normal for him to be super annoying. Like my little sisters and brother.”

His shoulder feels strangely cold where Mike bumped it and he nods. “I’m j-just annoyed.”

“Oh,” Mike says, laughing again. “It’s definitely gonna suck.”

Bill groans, but he feels a little better.

“Your mom should hire Richie to be a clown,” Bev says with a smirk. Richie shoves her.

“Please, Marsh. My company is PG-13, at the clean end.” Richie follows this with an explicit gesture and Ben smacks his arm.

They’re all in the club house, the day before Georgie’s birthday, which Bill is supposed to help with for some reason. He was hoping to just hide up in his room with headphones on to block out the sound of a bunch of nine year olds screaming. But no. Apparently, he has to be in the thick of it.

The house has already been strung with brightly colored streamers and a banner proclaiming that it’s Georgie’s birthday, like anyone there wouldn’t know. That afternoon, their mom came home with Georgie’s cake. It’s not shaped like a Lego, but it does have the Ninja Turtles drawn on it and that was enough to get Georgie hyperactive with excitement. His dad’s gotten the backyard free from any dead leaves so that the collection of soon-to-be fourth graders will be able to gorge themselves on piñata candy unimpeded. 

“I still think we should be invited,” Eddie says. He’s lying on his back with his skinny, bruised legs up against the dirt wall at a ninety-degree angle – not caring about cleanliness until it’s pointed out to him, as per usual. “I wanna hit a piñata.”

“You could hit Richie with a bat,” Bev suggests helpfully.

“Good idea,” Stan says, shuffling his playing cards. He and Ben have been playing a never-ending game of War for the last hour or so. Ben seems to be losing, but he’s so cheerful about it, it’s easy to forget. “I’ll bring one from home next time.”

Richie, who’s seated beside Bev on the floor near the hammock, looks at Stan with bemusement. “How many bats do you have?”

Stan shrugs. Bill picks at a rough patch of skin on his knee and looks at Mike in the hammock, the heel of his sneaker propped against one of the wooden beams. He’s got a book open on his stomach, but right now, he seems to just be dozing off, rocking and listening to the conversation around him.

“I hope he has a nice party,” Ben says, putting down a jack and taking Stan’s five of hearts. There’s something a little sad in his voice, but Bill doesn’t want to press it. “I bet he’ll have fun, especially with his big brother there.”

Richie throws a ping pong ball at Ben’s head. “Boo! Too mushy!” Bev slaps his arm. Eddie flips over on the floor to get in on the wrestling action.

Eventually, the cards have been scattered across the floor, Mike has been knocked out of the hammock and Richie and Eddie have each other in headlocks – but that’s not an atypical end of a Losers hang out session.

Georgie wakes Bill up at seven AM, by bursting into his room and launching himself onto Bill’s bed. It’s not the worst way he’s been woken up, but Bill almost throws him off the bed.

If he’s already in a mood, it’s because he was up until three that morning worrying about Mike and Bev, even though Bev said they didn’t have to go out anymore and that they were probably better as friends. But he doesn’t get why his mind has categorized Mike into the same area as Bev. Is he a bad friend – too obsessive and always wanting too much time – or is he just a bad person? What if that’s why Bev let him off the hook? Not because they just weren’t a good match that way like she said, but because she sensed something weird about Bill?

These thoughts looped around on themselves like an ouroboros until he finally fell asleep, his chest tight and aching.

“Bill, can you help me tie a tie?” Georgie asks, shoving Bill’s shoulder when he groans.

“No.” Bill pushes Georgie’s hand away from him and tries to burrow back under the covers, but Georgie has decided it’s time for Bill to be awake, so there’s not going to be any getting rid of him.

“Why not! I wanna look fancy,” Georgie says, like that explains anything. Bill cracks open one eye to take a look at him. Georgie is wearing a pale yellow button up (snap buttons) shirt that Bill thinks their mom probably got him for church with a pair of blue shorts. One of his socks is already crumpled around his ankle. 

“I don’t kn-know how,” Bill yawns and closes his eyes again. “Y-you sh-sh-should change.”

Georgie pauses, Bill assumes to look down at his outfit. “Why?”

“You’re gonna g-get cake on yourself.”

“No, I won’t! I’m not that messy!”

Bill shakes his head and sits up. There’s already daylight squeezing through the gaps in his curtains. His whole body aches from lack of sleep. “W-what time is the p-p-p-party?”

“Eleven,” Georgie says and when Bill grumbles, he quickly continues, “but dad got a pump for the balloons and we gotta fill ‘em up or else we won’t have any!”

“Okay,” Bill says, because arguing with Georgie is pointless. He usually just cries and then Bill feels bad. It’s not been an easy year for Georgie, or for their parents. It turns out a lot changes after an accident like that, which Bill feels like he should’ve understood before. He’s been _difficult_ for their parents since he started talking, but Georgie’s always the easier one. Maybe that’s why their parents have less trouble accommodating Georgie’s wants.

By ten, the balloons have been filled, the decorations are all finished, they’ve all had breakfast and Georgie’s tie has been tied by their dad as he heads out for work. Of course, Georgie immediately spills something on his shirt, but their mom cleans it off, gently scolding him for trying to fit too much food in his mouth at once.

“I swear, you boys act like I don’t feed you,” she says with fondness.

At ten fifteen, Bill tries to slip back up to his room, but their mom has to run out and pick up the pizza and can’t he keep an eye on Georgie until she gets back? So he’s stuck on the couch, trying to read the rest of _Dracula_ so he can discuss it with Mike, while Georgie watches _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ on the floor.

Georgie sits up at every creak of the house and every fluttering breeze that flows from the kitchen to the open back window.

“It’s n-not time yet, G-G-Georgie,” Bill spits out, annoyed. _Dracula_ is hard enough to follow as it is, without the TV going and Georgie moving all the time.

Georgie isn’t phased. “It’s only ten minutes!” he says, bouncing on the spot. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom.”

He pounds up the stairs and Bill bites his tongue, returning to his book.

Their mom gets home at five past eleven and Georgie jumps to his feet when she enters, only to sit back on the carpet, disappointed. Bill rolls his eyes.

“No one’s here yet, right?” their mom asks, setting the pizza boxes down on the kitchen island. Clutched in her hand is a piece of note paper, the one she’s been adding to all week as she got RSVP calls from parents. A list of allergies, probably based around the years of having to interact even momentarily with Eddie’s mom.

Georgie looks dejected as he shakes his head. Bill looks up from his book as their mom approaches, blonde hair escaping from its clip, and ruffles Georgie’s straw-colored hair.

“They’re just running late, sweetie,” she says and Georgie nods, eyes stubbornly fixed on the TV. He’s fidgeting just above his elbow, where his prosthetic attaches.

At some point, Bill falls asleep, _Dracula_ lulling him back to unconsciousness with run-on sentences.

He wakes to bright afternoon sun on his face and his mom shaking him gently by the shoulder. He rubs his eyes shifting into a sitting position.

“W-w-what’s going on?”

“Bill, where is your brother?” she asks and that’s when Bill looks at the floor to see that Georgie’s not there.

He shakes his head and shrugs, but then he spots the clock by the TV, which is still playing cartoons: one fifteen.

“W-where –” he starts, but his mom is speaking.

“I had to call into the office and it took longer than expected,” she says, worrying with one of her earrings. “You didn’t hear the doorbell?”

Bill shakes his head, getting to his feet to look out the window. The backyard is empty. “W-where are the – the other k-kids?”

“I have no idea.” She checks the pizzas on the counter. All intact. Bill looks back out the window and – 

There he is: Georgie. He’s sitting against one corner of the fence, legs hugged to his chest and his face buried between his knees.

Bill feels his mother’s hand on his shoulder and he turns to look at her, as her face, contorted with worry. She bites her lip before looking at Bill, giving him a sad smile.

“Let’s go.”

The two of them go through the mud room and out into the back yard, Bill following a little behind his mom. She drops to a squatting position in front of Georgie, resting a hand on his knee. Bill wishes he’d stayed inside.

“Baby?” she says and Georgie’s just shakes his head. She sighs, giving his knee a squeeze. “Did anyone come by while I was on the phone?”

Georgie shakes his head again and takes a slow, trembling breath. Bill wants to punch a wall.

Did he want to spend the afternoon with a bunch of annoying nine year olds, screaming and getting hyper off cake and pizza? No. But this is… His nails dig into his palms as he clenches his fists tighter.

“Do you want to talk right now?” their mom asks and Georgie shakes his head for a third time. “Okay. Bill is gonna sit with you while I make some calls and find out what’s going on.”

She rises and squeezes Bill’s shoulder before returning to the house.

As the door shuts behind her, Bill hesitates, looking at Georgie against the wood fence. He’s little and skinny and from above, Bill can see the funny way his hair spins at his cowlick. The sight makes him angrier.

Bill sits down next to him, careful to leave room so that they’re not touching. If Georgie wants a hug, he’ll hug Bill. Better not to make him feel crowded.

“If you w-want, I can t-t-tell you a s-st-story,” Bill says, a consolation prize. Georgie always likes reading Bill’s stories, but he hates to read. Georgie’s solution is that Bill tell them out loud, but Bill hates to talk. He hates it less with Georgie than with a lot of other people, mostly because Georgie never seems to lose patience with Bill – but someday, he might.

Georgie nods and so Bill tells him about Odysseus and the cyclops, but he makes Odysseus a veterinarian with one arm and the cyclops a vampire. Maybe the resemblance to the myth is only slight, but by the end of the story, Georgie has stopped crying. His face is still hidden behind his knees, but his shoulders have stopped heaving and his breath is steady.

Bill bumps him with his shoulder, expecting Georgie to giggle, the way he usually does when Bill rough houses with him, but he doesn’t. He’s just quiet.

“Do – Do you w-want me t-to get mom?” he asks and Georgie shakes his head. “Okay.”

There’s a pause. Bill can hear the sound of their mom’s voice in the kitchen, but not enough to make out the words. A bee hovers near the marigolds and a horrible thought occurs to him. The kind of thought that starts at the top of the head and drops to the stomach, making the acid bubble up the throat.

“G-Georgie?” he says.

“Mm,” is the only response, but Bill tries to continue, if just to stop his stomach from boiling over. The words stick in his throat.

_It’s because of me,_ he wants to say. It’s because half of Derry thinks he’s gay and the other half thinks he’s slow and some of them think he’s both. Bill isn’t slow and, even if he were, he doesn’t think that it would excuse the way most of the kids at school treat him – not to mention the adults in town.

(He’s not sure if he’s gay. But that’s a scary thought for another time.)

“M’sorry,” he says instead, his eyes burning. Georgie’s shoulders are small and bony under his arm as he goes to pull him close, but Georgie jerks away, his breath coming in shaky gasps again.

“I know why they’re not here,” Georgie says, his voice thick. Bill can just see his blotchy cheeks and the way his chin trembles. “I know.”

Guilt grips tight at Bill’s throat and he tries to swallow. “Yeah,” he says, mimicking Georgie’s posture and hugging his knees to his chest. “I do t-too.”

Georgie sits up at that, his gray eyes wide. His face is red with tears and his mouth is partly open in surprise. “You do?” he says, looking horrified. His lower lip shakes. “How?”

Bill swallows hard. “I… I m-mean, I…” He gestures at himself uselessly. Georgie blinks at him.

“What?”

“I…” Bill pauses, trying to think of the words. “I’m y-your b-b-brother and s-so th-they… Th-they don’t w-w-want to s-see me…” It’s not what he’s trying to say, but it’s close enough.

Georgie glares at him, fresh tears springing to his eyes. He slams his forehead back to his knees and makes a frustrated noise. Bill feels like he’s just got punched in the chest.

“G-Georgie,” he starts, putting a hand on Georgie’s shoulder. “I’m r-r-really s-sorry. I… I c-c-c-can’t – ”

“It’s not because of you!” Georgie cries, slamming his fist to the ground by Bill, his face crumpled. “I wouldn’t care if it was ‘cause of that! ‘Cause then they’d just be jerks and I don’t wanna hang out with jerks!”

He swipes at his eyes, only succeeding in smearing dirt on his cheeks and bonking himself in the face with part of his prosthetic. Giving a cry of anger, he undoes his cuff and rips it off. It lands on the other side of the lawn, bouncing once on the grass.

Bill isn’t unfamiliar with Georgie’s tantrums. While Bill gets frustrated from the way words tangle up on him, Georgie gets furious from his feelings that he’s still too young to explain fully. He’s always been quicker to cry than Bill, quicker to scream and quicker to fight. He’s volatile in a way that Bill isn’t really – ecstatic when he’s happy and sobbing when he’s sad. Their parents have said he’ll grow out of it, but Bill almost hopes he doesn’t.

Except right now, because seeing Georgie in pain makes him feel like his chest is going to collapse in on itself.

“W-what are you t-talking ab-b-about?” Bill asks carefully, but that just makes Georgie cry harder. He folds himself toward Bill, burying his tear-stained face in Bill’s faded camp shirt. Instinctively, Bill closes his arms around Georgie, holding him close, even as hot tears soak through his shirt. He strokes Georgie’s soft, messy hair. “Hey…”

“It’s because of _me_ . They don’t wanna be here ‘cause of _me_.”

Bill freezes, feeling very much adrift in the middle of choppy waters. “Huh?”

Georgie pulls away from him, wiping his eyes with his cuff. “They don’t wanna be friends with me,” he says, his voice quiet. He doesn’t look at Bill, just toys with his empty shirt sleeve. “No one does.”

_I’m your friend_ , Bill thinks, but doesn’t say. He’ll always be Georgie’s friend. That reassurance won’t help anything right now.

“W-why?” he asks instead and Georgie gives a little whimper.

“I fell off my bike.” Georgie’s voice is so small and Bill forgets sometimes how quiet he can get when he’s upset. He still has a hand on Georgie’s shoulder, but he doesn’t dare try and do any kind of soothing motion. It’s like spotting a rabbit in the barrens – having to stay quiet and keep his distance. “We were coasting on the hill in the parking lot and I couldn’t brake right so I fell and my arm came off and everyone got scared.”

A tear lands on the back of his hand where it sits on the grass, fingers flushed and his knuckles white. Bill is speechless.

“No one wants to be my friend,” Georgie says between gasping breaths. “I’m gross.”

That wakes Bill back up, turns the icy horror in his veins to a red hot fury. He grips Georgie’s shoulder and Georgie looks at him, wide eyes still filled with tears, guilt painted over his face.

“Those kids are _assholes_ ,” Bill says and Georgie’s eyes get even wider.

“Bill!” he hisses, looking toward the back door like their mom might’ve heard.

“I m-mean it, Georgie.” He gives Georgie’s shoulder a gentle shake for emphasis. “L-l-look at me.”

Georgie does and Bill remembers the first time he came home with a black eye – remembers how Georgie said he looked cool and tough. _Was it that big kid? Bowers? I heard he fought a bear! But he couldn’t even knock you out with a punch!_ It wasn’t true, but Bill remembers how it made him feel: a little like laughing even as his chest swelled with a kind of misplaced pride.

“Those kids are t-total shitheads.” Georgie gasps, but Bill barrels on. “And if th-they – If they d-don’t get how c-c-cool and nice you are, they d-don’t deserve t-to b-be your friends. You’re – You’re a good p-person and they’re all assholes.”

Georgie stares at him, mouth open. Bill swallows, trying to stop himself from talking because it’s probably just going to be a lot more cursing.

“You think so?” Georgie says, his voice shaking.

Bill nods firmly. “Y-yeah. Here. I… I th-think I’ve got a g-good idea.” He climbs to his feet and puts out a hand to help Georgie up. “B-but you c-can’t w-w-wear a t-tie for it.”

Eddie arrives first. His house is just a block away, so it makes sense. He shows up with an old _ThunderCats_ comic that he’s stuck a crumpled-looking present bow to the front of.

“It’s one of my favorites,” he tells Georgie, shoving it in his hand. “You still like cartoons and stuff, right?”

Georgie nods excitedly and Eddie starts telling him everything he likes about the comic at top speed, ignoring that Georgie’s eyes and nose are still red. They sit together on the carpeted living room floor, Eddie explaining the important background information for each character.

Richie is next – his Nintendo console shoved into his backpack – though he’s less graceful and immediately rushes over to Georgie’s arm that’s sitting by the TV, covered in grass stains. He holds it aloft.

“Dude, we should use this to hit the piñata!” he declares and Eddie immediately fires back that Richie’s a dipshit and Georgie, who was briefly paralyzed with embarrassment, is overcome with a fit of giggles.

Bev arrives empty-handed, but she tells them that she got five dollars so if they want to rent a movie they can.

“Can you rent an R-rated movie?” Georgie asks with obvious excitement. Bev taps her chin, considering.

“Probably,” she says after a moment, dropping down to sit with them on the floor. “Depends on the movie.”

Stan is the only one that’s clearly gone downtown before getting to Bill’s house. He comes in with a plastic bag and reaches in to produce a water gun, which Georgie is _dangerously_ excited about. Stan just smiles when Bill glares at him though.

Ben brings a battered Burger King crown that he puts on Georgie’s head. “That way everyone knows whose day it is,” he tells Georgie, who beams.

When Mike gets there, Richie has hooked up his NES to the Denbrough’s TV and is currently playing _Super Mario Bros. 2_ with Georgie. The two of them are sharing one controller, Richie playing as the left while Georgie plays with his right while Eddie and Bev are shouting their own bad advice from the couch.

Bill doesn’t remember getting to his feet or making his way to the door, but he’s suddenly there, right in front of Mike. His skeleton seems to want to vibrate out of his skin and his ears burn.

“Th-thanks,” Bill says just as Mike says, “Hey!”

There’s a moment, so awkward that Bill wants to run right out the front door, but then Mike holds out a wrapped package that looks suspiciously like a book.

“Is there a place to put presents?” he asks and Bill for some reason blushes harder.

“W-we’ve j-just been g-giving ‘em to him,” Bill explains and Mike bumps him with his shoulder.

“Thanks,” he says and Bill might have to launch himself off the roof of the house.

He watches as Mike goes on ahead into the living room. Georgie instantly abandons his side of the console, leaving Richie to curse and scramble while Eddie laughs. Stan aims a half-hearted kick at the back of Richie’s head. Ben tries to cover his own smile, but Bev catches him and gives him a grin in return.

Bill knows that’s his mom’s hand on his shoulder before he turns. She gives him a squeeze and a gentle smile.

“Thank you,” she says and Bill feels like a little kid under her careful gaze. He looks away, at Georgie who’s tearing the paper off Mike’s present while Bev holds it for him. “I could smack those kids in his class.”

Bill nods. “Y-yeah.”

His mom smiles again, something a bit more sly as she pulls him in for a hug. He’s still shorter than her, so his cheek presses to her neck as she embraces him.

“Thank you for sharing your friends,” she says, releasing him before he has a chance to complain. Bill quickly looks back over at the others, at Mike telling Georgie about his present: a paperback copy of _The Hobbit_. “You’re a very good brother.”

Pride sparks in his chest and Bill smiles as he watches Georgie thank Mike and tell him to _please, help yourself to some of the soda in the fridge_. Mike catches Bill’s eye, a laughing grin stretching across his face.

“I don’t th-think they’d be my f-f-friends if they w-w-weren’t G-Georgie’s.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about It, Star Trek and whatever else on [my twitter](https://twitter.com/bbqchipdealer)! Tip your waiter!


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